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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24486760">love enough to want to be better</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/laughtales/pseuds/laughtales'>laughtales</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>enough [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Comfort, Confessions, M/M, long overdue communication, there's like two lines of non-explicit sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:07:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,620</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24486760</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/laughtales/pseuds/laughtales</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Felix and Sylvain talk about the wrongness of last time and what it means going forward.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>enough [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1762975</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>84</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>love enough to want to be better</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Final part. This was a totally unexpected, exploratory, and experimental ride. I learned a lot from it. Thanks for sticking around &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="Typewriter">For all intents and purposes, Sylvain is… normal, in the days, week even, after Miklan and having to deal with his father and his inheritance of the Lance of Ruin.</p><p class="Typewriter">To be fair though, normal is a subjective term and fluctuates wildly when referring to Sylvain.</p><p class="Typewriter">What Felix means by <em>Sylvain acting normal</em> is that he’s managed to don that fake as fuck persona of his seamlessly. He’s got that charming, lazy smile near constantly, flirting and chatting up girls and Felix doesn’t want to think about what happens beyond that.</p><p class="Typewriter">He cozies into Felix’s personal space and invites him for dinner and Felix dreads, waiting to feel two taps against his neck each time but they never come.</p><p class="Typewriter">It’s wrong. Some part of him is relieved but it’s so wrong. Something awful twists in his gut and Felix decides he can’t stand to be around Sylvain like that.</p><p class="Typewriter">So he doesn’t. At least not more than necessary.</p><p class="Typewriter">As soon as class ends, he makes for the training grounds and stays there until dinner. He’ll stray in at the very last minute and grab whatever he sees first, eating his meal on one of the benches overlooking the cemetery. It’s the least romantic place Felix can think of and therefore the least likely place for him to accidentally run into Sylvain.</p><p class="Typewriter">He's not too proud to admit that he’s avoiding Sylvain, because that’s exactly what he’s doing. He isn't proud that he’s doing it but it’s that or confront his feelings and Felix has an obvious preference between the two.</p><p class="Typewriter">It’s not that he doesn’t notice the tension and the distance that grows between them. He can practically feel Sylvain’s eyes on him during class, boring holes into his back but as long as he doesn’t see it, he can pretend that Sylvain doesn’t have that awful smile on his face. That he isn’t pretending he’s okay and drowning his feelings in indulgences.</p><p class="Typewriter">If anything, all the Lions have noticed. If they aren’t bringing it up to Sylvain, they’re coming to Felix himself. Or approaching both if the someone’s name happens to be Ingrid Brandl Galatea.</p><p class="Typewriter">She corners him in his sanctuary five days into his <em>avoid Sylvain</em> vendetta.</p><p class="Typewriter">“Felix-“</p><p class="Typewriter">“No.”  </p><p class="Typewriter">Ingrid frowns. “If you don’t want to talk to me, fine. But you have to talk to him then.”</p><p class="Typewriter">“No I don’t.”</p><p class="Typewriter">“Then at least let him talk to you!”</p><p class="Typewriter">Felix looks at her. “If that’s what he wants, it’s not like he doesn’t know where to find me.”</p><p class="Typewriter">Ingrid goes from frustrated to downcast, just like that. “I don’t know what happened between you two, but something clearly did. You didn’t show it as much but Sylvain...” Ingrid looks into the air at her left. The space that Sylvain occupied when they were children, playing silly games that involved holding hands in a circle. Sylvain was always between Ingrid and Felix. Glenn on Ingrid’s other side and Dimitri on Felix’s other.</p><p class="Typewriter">It’s a memory long ground into dust and ash.</p><p class="Typewriter">Felix tries not to think about the last time he and Sylvain had held hands. How wrong it went and how awful he’d felt.</p><p class="Typewriter">“He looked happy, Felix. Like himself, and not what he pretends to be. I miss his real smile; I’d almost forgotten how much he lights up when he does.”</p><p class="Typewriter">“You sound like one of his lovestruck girls.” It’s out before he can reign it in and he winces when he sees the hurt on Ingrid’s face.</p><p class="Typewriter">Instead of lashing out at him or calling him out on how much of an asshole he’s being, Ingrid lets out a breath and looks at him very sadly. It’s worse than if she gave him a tongue lashing. “Just, please, hear him out if he tries. I want you to be happy. You both deserve that much after everything that’s happened.”</p><p class="Typewriter">Ingrid leaves after saying her piece and Felix is left staring at her back with wide eyes, the suggestion of her words sitting heavy in his mind.</p><p class="Typewriter"> </p><p class="Typewriter"> </p><p class="Typewriter">The way Ingrid had put it made it sound like Sylvain had expressed intention to talk to him. Truth be told, he wants them to get back to normal as well. Even though he dreads what that means for them nowadays, he still misses Sylvain’s presence. So he makes himself less scarce, lingering in places other than his usual haunts but Sylvain never approaches him.</p><p class="Typewriter">Eventually, Felix gets tired of waiting and taps Ashe on the shoulder when he walks into the classroom one morning, asking to switch seats with him for the day. Ashe beams at him and happily obliges, gathering up his books and sliding into Felix’s usual seat next to Annette.</p><p class="Typewriter">Felix sits in his new seat for the day and glances to his right, the seat remains empty until the Professor arrives to begin lesson preparations. Sylvain hurries in exactly one minute before class starts and Felix can tell from his footsteps that he pauses in the doorway and hovers there until the Professor looks at him and he takes his seat next to Felix.</p><p class="Typewriter">The Professor begins class as soon as Sylvain settles. They aren’t spared the chance to greet each other. Felix isn’t even able to bring himself to <em>look</em> at him.</p><p class="Typewriter">Halfway through a lesson on terrain and how to position troops accordingly, Sylvain slides a piece of paper in his direction.</p><p class="Typewriter">
  <em> Look at me? Please. </em>
</p><p class="Typewriter">Felix stares at it. The <em>please</em> looks hastily scrawled, like an afterthought and Felix doesn’t know what to make of that. Of all the things he expected to see, that was not one of them. It’s a strange message, given that it’s just an action. It doesn’t prompt him to reply, there’s nothing to reply to. Just a request for him to do something. Felix gets a sense of desperation from the plea.</p><p class="Typewriter">So he turns his head and looks. Sylvain is half-turned to face him, not even trying to pretend that he’s listening to the Professor. His head is rested on his hand, propped up on the table and Felix expects to see a persona looking back at him but instead there’s just Sylvain.</p><p class="Typewriter">Unsmiling and apologetic.</p><p class="Typewriter">They’ve always been able to communicate without words, but something about this has Felix out of his depths and he searches his mind but finds nothing to say to Sylvain in that moment.</p><p class="Typewriter">Sylvain also doesn’t say anything to him, just waits and watches and right before Felix looks away, he does something.</p><p class="Typewriter">Felix’s eyes widen and he swallows. Sylvain looks at him for a moment, watching for his reaction. Felix isn’t sure what Sylvain reads but it makes him close his eyes and shift his attention back to the chalkboard. Back to pretending to be paying attention but Felix can tell his mind isn’t focused on the lecture at all.</p><p class="Typewriter">He’s left staring. Eyes glued to the side of Sylvain’s neck where he’d tapped himself twice. A casual action that might’ve passed for thoughtless pondering if not doused in previous associations of want and closeness and newer hesitations.</p><p class="Typewriter">Felix spends the rest of class not paying attention, playing the action in his head over and over. It’s obvious what Sylvain is asking for. That motion has only ever meant one thing between them. A gesture of trust and understanding. But ever since their last time together, fear has rooted itself within him and he’s been dreading their next time in the wake of Miklan’s death.</p><p class="Typewriter">So when class ends, Felix bolts. He feels Sylvain’s eyes following him but is unable to bring himself to stop.</p><p class="Typewriter">Except his feet don’t carry him to the training grounds. Or the cemetery overlook. Or his own room, for that matter. They carry him straight to Sylvain’s, throwing the door open and slamming it shut behind him. Sylvain’s room is clean like it always is and he drops onto Sylvain’s bed and buries his face in his hands, steeling himself.</p><p class="Typewriter">He waits.</p><p class="Typewriter"> </p><p class="Typewriter"> </p><p class="Typewriter">The sun is setting by the time Felix hears footsteps approaching the door.</p><p class="Typewriter">There’s a knock on the door, followed by the sound of Sylvain’s voice. “I’m coming in, Felix.”</p><p class="Typewriter">“It’s your room, you don’t need to announce yourself.” Felix says when Sylvain enters, watching him leave a tray of food on his desk. </p><p class="Typewriter">“Wasn’t sure if you’d appreciate the surprise after you ran out like that.” He doesn’t sound hurt, just tired. Almost as tired as Felix feels.</p><p class="Typewriter">“Sylvain,” Felix starts, trying to squash his hesitation, his fear, his feelings. Everything screeches to a halt when Sylvain drops to his knees between Felix’s legs.</p><p class="Typewriter">Sylvain takes his hands, gently, slowly, looking sadly, softly up into Felix’s eyes and brings them closer to him.</p><p class="Typewriter">Felix flinches hard and tries to wrench his hand out of Sylvain’s grip. “I can’t-” His breath is coming faster, what little preparation he did thrown away at the abruptness of it all. “I can’t do this for you, Sylvain. Not anymore, not like this.” It pours from him all at once, because if Sylvain were to ask with words, Felix isn’t sure he’d be able to refuse. “I’m-“</p><p class="Typewriter">“I’m not asking you to.” Sylvain’s voice is so soft, so remorseful as he says that. He’s still holding Felix’s hands. “I just want to say sorry.”</p><p class="Typewriter">“But you, in class, you-.” There’s a lump stuck in Felix’s throat.</p><p class="Typewriter">Sylvain looks at him sadly. “I didn’t know how else to get you to talk to me.” Sylvain looks away from his face, to his hands instead, running his thumb over the back of them. “One more sorry to add to the list. I’m sorry, Fe.”</p><p class="Typewriter">Felix forcibly dislodges the lump. “For what?” he croaks. If anyone should be apologizing, it’s him. For hurting Sylvain, for ignoring him and running away and being unable to help him anymore.</p><p class="Typewriter">Sylvain lets go of his hands. “You,” Sylvain says. Leaning in slowly, enough for Felix to push him away if he wanted, Sylvain leans into him and wraps his arms around his torso. “For hurting you. For lying to you – not in the moment but after I thought about it. Using you. Taking you for granted.” He hides his face in Felix’s chest. “I trust you with my life, Fe. More than I trust myself with it. You’re more important to me than anything and I almost- I did, fuck that up. I’m so sorry I did that to you. I’m not excepting to be forgiven, and I’d understand if you never wanted to sleep with me again or be anything more. It hurts but I don’t want to lose you as a friend too.”</p><p class="Typewriter">The words float around in his head, not sinking in. Felix doesn’t understand what he just experienced Sylvain saying. He heard the words. But he doesn’t understand. Because there was <em>so much,</em> in the undertones, between the lines, in the unspoken language they speak, that doesn’t make sense to him.</p><p class="Typewriter">“What are we?” His brain decides that’s the most pressing question he needs answered.</p><p class="Typewriter">Sylvain looks up at him with a sad and hopeful smile. “I was hoping we could still be friends.”</p><p class="Typewriter">“Of course we’re friends,” Felix says, no other answer even crossing his mind. Obviously they’re friends. Why would Sylvain think otherwise?</p><p class="Typewriter">But when he looks at Sylvain to ask as much, he finds Sylvain looking at him like he just handed him the sun.</p><p class="Typewriter">Ingrid suggested it. Sylvain implied it. Felix pretended not to feel it.</p><p class="Typewriter">He can't deny it anymore.</p><p class="Typewriter">Maybe opening up a little wouldn’t be so bad.</p><p class="Typewriter">“I wasn’t upset at you. I was scared. I thought I hurt you, and I realized later,” Felix says, hoping he sounds less guilty than he feels, “that you wanted me to.” He looks down at Sylvain and gently touches the side of his neck. “I’ve been dreading that you’d ask me to do it again, after everything that happened. And I was afraid that I couldn’t bring myself to say no. I…” he trails off. “I might’ve done it if it meant I could see my best friend again and not the charming Gautier heir.” Sylvain looks at him so sorrowfully it makes his heart ache. “But the more I thought about it, the more I couldn’t bring myself to. There are a lot of things I’d do for you. But I won’t, I <em>can’t</em> do that. Help you hurt yourself.”</p><p class="Typewriter">Sylvain nods, holding Felix’s hand where it’s placed on his neck. “It doesn’t make it any less wrong, but it wasn’t intentional. Old habits die hard and like I said, I started taking you and your trust for granted.” Anguish creeps into Sylvain’s expression. “Everything I didn’t want to think about, everything I was running from came crashing through the door all at once and I was so desperate to escape from it, even if only for a little while. I didn’t consider what it’d do to you and what we’d had.” Sylvain closes his eyes. “I’m sorry.”</p><p class="Typewriter">Felix tries to find anger and resentment within himself. He finds nothing but sadness and concern and affection.</p><p class="Typewriter">“What did we have?” he asks instead.</p><p class="Typewriter">“I don’t know,” Sylvain admits, taking Felix’s hand and bringing it up to his cheek. “But I didn’t want to kiss anyone else much less sleep with them. I wanted to take you to bed without the whole choking me thing. Don’t get me wrong, I love it and I love how much you love it. But I want to kiss you and have sex with you and fall asleep with you in my arms even without that as a reason or to satisfy my urges.”</p><p class="Typewriter">Felix’s heart backflips.</p><p class="Typewriter">He doesn’t know if Sylvain realizes he’s not speaking in past tense anymore.</p><p class="Typewriter">Felix looks down at him and realizes that Sylvain is still kneeling on the floor. He looks past him and sees the tray filled with his now cold favourites. Runs his thumb along Sylvain’s cheekbone and feels Sylvain lean into the touch.</p><p class="Typewriter">He leans forward and brings his other hand to the back of Sylvain’s head and uses it to guide and pull him in for a kiss.</p><p class="Typewriter">“I want that too,” he breathes against Sylvain’s lips. “Now get off the floor and come up here.”</p><p class="Typewriter">Sylvain hesitates but relents when Felix hugs him and vocalizes his want. They kiss and Sylvain takes him apart and fucks him with loving care. Felix reaches for Sylvain’s neck and he sees the apprehension in his eyes, but Felix simply reaches around and holds him close as he crests on waves of pleasure.</p><p class="Typewriter">“I’m not ready for that just yet,” Felix says once they’ve caught their breaths and lay in each others’ arms.</p><p class="Typewriter">He’s pressed further into Sylvain’s chest. “That’s okay, whenever you’re ready,” Sylvain reassures. “I, uh, have some things to work out too.”</p><p class="Typewriter">“You said it used to help. What are you going to do? There’s even more shitty stuff for you to think about now,” Felix ruminates. “Are you going to…” he trails off, unease seeping in unwillingly as he goes down that train of thought.</p><p class="Typewriter">“Oh, you have no idea,” Sylvain says cheerily, “<em>so much</em> shit to think about.” Felix tenses. “But no one else but you. And I don’t want to keep running from my issues. I was told I should try talking about them with someone I trust.” Sylvain’s voice gains a sheepish lilt. “You don’t have to talk, but will you listen? And next time we try this again,” Sylvain taps him lightly on the neck, “it’ll be because we want to have kinky sex and not so I can silence my thoughts in a bad way.”</p><p class="Typewriter">“Yeah, that sounds good.”</p>
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